


"don't move."

by noalarmsandnosuprises



Series: whumptober 2019 [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Heavy Angst, Whump, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 01:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21007688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noalarmsandnosuprises/pseuds/noalarmsandnosuprises
Summary: “I’m doing it,” Natasha says, braid jerking toward the cliff. It’s blonde like he remembers, the blonde she dyed it months – years ago, but it’s tangled with red now, natural red like the blood on her hands they would spend late nights talking about. Clint thinks there’s more blood on his hands now.“You’re not,” He says, decisive. “Nat – Nat, it’s me. I’ve got nothing – Laura, the kids, they’re d-dead, they’re never coming back. I’m ready.”





	"don't move."

**Author's Note:**

> whoops this is late enjoy

Red-man breaks the news and Clint can _hear _the cogs turning in Natasha’s brain.

“Clint,” She says, eyes dark. “Clint.”

“Nope. Na-uh. Na-da.”

“Clint.”

Twin peaks of indigo mountain rise behind them, casting a shadow over Natasha’s face. This is the craziest, most stupid thing he’s ever done –well, maybe not, but this has to come close. An alien planet millions of light years away from Earth, in a year tangled in the past armed with nothing but a billion-dollar suit and a motherfucking GPS. He’s going crazy. Everything’s been too tough on his pea-sized brain and he’s going insane.

Seeing ‘Tasha again has been tough. Correction, the past five years have been tough. Thanos snapped his ugly fingers together and his entire family was gone, _poof_, erased from existence, thrown to the side like whatever deity was watching over them – if there even was one, Clint had lost faith at this point – had lost interest and discarded Laura, his wife, Lila, his daughter and Cooper and Nathaniel, his wonderful sons, as if they were simply playthings that got too boring.

Clint wasn’t there. Wasn’t there to see them go – only the wisps of their beings fading away, wasn’t there to fight for them to stay. He wasn’t there to throw his fists against Thanos, notch arrows against his bowstring and let them fly deep into his great, horrific chin. He didn’t get the change to fight to protect his family, to save his _world. _

So, when the Shadow Period, Decimation, Blip – call it what you want, he’s too tired, too angry to care – started, he had his chance. A new life, not a life he wanted and not one he would have ever chosen was thrust upon him and he took it and ran. Scrapped his bow for katanas, donned a cloak and changed his appearance until there was barely nothing left of the old Clint to feel sorry for. Every day he fought, killed mob mosses and mafia members, petty thieves and prison escapees. Some, Clint guessed, were probably innocent, maybe a fly in a web of a mess, but he just couldn’t stop killing. Thanos took his family. Somebody somewhere let that happen. It was only fair Clint destroyed their world in return.

And then Natasha had turned up. Their roles were reversed – he had been caught in the act, weapon in hand, scarlet soaking the ground, his blade and heavy heart. When they’d first met it had been Natasha in that position, Natasha bent over the warm body, pistols in hand.

“What are you doing?” She had said back then, back in subzero Russia, cold snow in her voice and on the ground. “What are you doing?” She had said now, voice softer, warmer, like the blood on the ground.

“Why are you here?” He’d replied, and then choked. In five long years he hadn’t seen a friend, hadn’t spoken a word to anyone he wasn’t holding a knife to the throat of. And then suddenly in the past couple of months he’d seen everyone left – Tony, Steve, Bruce, the racoon and blue space girl, ant-boy and Tony’s girls. Seen their scared expressions, their disappointed faces. But that was okay; he’d given up on humanity, on himself a long, long time ago. He had been an empty spell of Clinton Francis Barton for one thousand, eight-hundred and twenty-five days now. It was time to go join his family. He was long overdue.

“I’m doing it,” Natasha says, braid jerking toward the cliff. It’s blonde like he remembers, the blonde she dyed it months – years ago, but it’s tangled with red now, natural red like the blood on her hands they would spend late nights talking about. Clint thinks there’s more blood on his hands now.

“You’re not,” He says, decisive. “Nat – Nat, it’s me. I’ve got nothing – Laura, the kids, they’re d-dead, they’re never coming back. I’m ready.” “But they _are _coming back, Barton,” Natasha offers a smile. “We’re getting them back, don’t you see? You’re going to see them again. You have to live for that.”

“Yeah, and then what? Am I just supposed to live without you?”

The planet falls quiet. In his peripheral vision Red-Man’s cloak swirls ominously, his horror-movie like face morphed into a sneer. He floats closer, tendrils of black caressing the purple, rocky ground. “Have you made a decision?” He says, voice sounding like handfuls of dirt colliding with the smooth wood of a coffin.

“Yes,” Nat snaps at the same time Clint screams in anguish. “The hell? No!”

There’s another beat of silence. His best friend arches her eyebrow, twitches the corner of her mouth up, and sprints. She’s always been faster than him, a mixture of crazy Russian training and Clint totally always letting her win, but this time adrenaline pushes him on and he dives on top of her as she reaches the edge of the cliff, breath wheezing out of his chest. Her hand is outstretched into the blue-black void. Clint holds it.

“Don’t move,” He whispers. His voice breaks, tears falling from his eyes. “Do not move, Natalia. I swear to god, I’ll kill you.”

“Not if I die first,” She squeezes his hand back. Clint scream-laughs, crying freely. “This is not the time for joking.”

“You’re right.” Nat says. “It’s the time for dying.”

The next few moments are an absolute flurry of movements, no words, just elbows in armpits and fists under jaws, kicks to the thigh, pulling fingers back and twisting hair. Clint tries, he fights harder than he’s ever fought before, puts his whole being, every single thought and cell into his body into the fight, but he’s no competition. Natasha has always been better. She flips on top of him, soaring through the air gracefully, the perfect picture of a ballet dancer and lands on her knees, pressing her forearm against Clint’s throat and pinning him down. The rocks dig into his back, rubble imprinting on his spine.

“Please,” He mumbles. “Please don’t do this. Let me, Natalia.”

She just grins back, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Goodbye, Мой брат.”

“Oh, don’t you fucking dare, I swear I’ll – “

Nat pulls out of his grasp and dives down. He catches her dollar in his fist, joints popping and muscles straining. Her face swims up at his, big, watery eyes conveying years’ worth of conversations he wants to have in real life in seconds. _Please. Please. Anyone. Let her stay. Let her. Stay. _

“Я тебя люблю,” She smiles. “Я так тебя люблю, брат.”

And then she drops. Worms out of his hand, falls toward the ground feather-light. Clint doesn’t even get a chance to say he loves her back.

**Author's Note:**

> this is short but i hoped u guys liked it!


End file.
